


I Need Love, Love to Ease My Mind

by gutsforgarters



Series: come on, now, try and understand / the way i feel when i’m in your hands [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Crushes, F/M, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Introspection, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 02:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21228422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsforgarters/pseuds/gutsforgarters
Summary: Beth never had the nerve to hope that her longtime crush would be requited—not until now, anyway.





	I Need Love, Love to Ease My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kattyshack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/gifts).
  * Inspired by [cross my heart, pretty darlin’, over you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227051) by [kattyshack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/pseuds/kattyshack). 

> Based on [Chapter 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227051/chapters/48453179) of the fic that ate my brain. I'm just playin' in Maj's sandbox ❤️
> 
> Title from "You Can't Hurry Love" by the Supremes.

“I dunno, Beth,” Amy says, the doubt in her voice coming through loud and clear in spite of the intermittent bursts of static that plague their connection. “I just don’t think it’s that big a deal.”

Beth hugs Burt Reynolds the yellow platypus to her stomach and rolls over onto her back to frown at her bedroom ceiling. “I mean, I guess it _wouldn’t_ be, if it was anybody else? But this is different.”

“How?” Amy asks, and now she sounds a little exasperated. She’s not trying to be a killjoy; Beth knows she isn’t. She just doesn’t want Beth to set herself up for disappointment. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I’d be super happy for you if it _did_ mean something—I just don’t get it, I guess.”

Beth curls her hand beneath her chin and nearly bites down on her thumbnail before remembering that she’d mess up her nail polish if she did. Dang, she really _has_ been spending a lot of time around Daryl lately, if she’s started picking up his nervous habits.

Not that she especially minds. She figures it’s a fair trade, ’cause she’ll take a few wrecked cuticles any day if she gets to spend the rest of her life riding shotgun in Daryl’s truck in return.

“Beth? You still there?”

Beth blinks, and if her dry, burning eyes are any indication, it’s been a while since she last did it. “Sorry. Spaced out for a second there.”

“Daydreaming about your boyfriend?” Amy guesses, and, yeah. If only Beth _could_ call him her boyfriend.

Beth gives Burt Reynolds a parting squeeze before setting him aside and rolling onto her stomach, switching her phone from her right ear to her left so she can grab her notebook off the nightstand. She ruffles through its ink-stiff pages until she finds the one she was searching for, then retrieves her pen and clicks it on, doodling idly in an empty space while she tries to explain the significance of what Daryl’s been doing. 

“I mean…he replaced his truck’s stereo just ’cause I told him he should update to an aux cord, y’know? Like, he spent his money on _that_ ’cause of somethin’_ I _said. Like he was tryin’ to make me happy, I dunno.”

Daryl doesn’t have a lot of money, is the thing, and he works hard for what he_ does_ have, so the fact that he spent his hard-earned cash on something frivolous just because Beth mentioned it in passing, that’s—

Well. It’s something that she’s still trying to process, anyway. She’s been processing a_ lot_ of stuff lately.

“So?” Amy retorts, still playing the skeptical Scully to Beth’s Mulder. And that’s good, Beth supposes—she needs a neutral party to bounce her impressions off of. Needs a devil’s advocate. “He’s probably been meaning to update it, anyway. Didn’t you say his truck was, like, really ancient?”

Beth writes Daryl’s name in big looping letters and draws a bubbly heart around it. “I mean, yeah? But, Amy, I’ve never seen him use the aux cord. He always passes it to _me_.”

There’s a protracted beat of silence, and Beth’s just started to wonder whether the connection’s been lost when Amy says, in tones of someone who’s been read revelation, “_Oh_. Okay, that’s…huh.”

Beth smirks and writes her name below Daryl’s inside the heart before adding a little plus sign between them. She _knew_ Amy would have to concede_ that_ point. Aux cords are serious business; you don’t hand them over to just _anyone_.

But then she deflates a little bit. It’s not that Amy’s doubts are getting to her, exactly; it’s just that she had few reasons to do anything _but _doubt until very recently. “But, I dunno. Maybe you’re right. I mean, Daryl’s always doin’ thoughtful stuff for everybody anyway. That’s just how he is.”

It could be that she’s finally swayed Amy over to her way of thinking. Could be that Amy just feels bad about raining on Beth’s parade like she has. Whatever the reason, she’s quick to say, “Yeah, but he _gave you the aux cord_. Bet he’s never done that for anybody else before.”

Well, probably not, if only because he didn’t _have _an aux cord to pass over till now. Still, Beth smiles and writes _Mrs. Beth Dixon_ beneath the heart with hers and Daryl’s names in it. It’s a little old fashioned of her, she knows—not to mention a little junior high—but she likes the way it looks; likes the way it sounds when she whispers it to herself in bed late at night, giddy with the exhaustion of the day. Anyway, she likes to think that it’d do a lot for Daryl’s self-esteem, if she took on his name and _proved_ to him that it’s something worth having. That he’s_ someone _worth having.

“And it’s not just that, y’know?” Beth claps her journal shut and climbs out of bed, crossing the room to her backpack and tucking it inside the front pocket. “It’s just…the way he looks at me. I dunno how to describe it, Amy, but nobody’s ever looked at me like that before, they really haven’t.”

Amy’s laugh sets off a crackle of static. “Plenty of guys’ve had crushes on you before, Beth, jeez.”

_Hmph_. Well. Beth wouldn’t say _plenty_, but that’s not the point, anyway. “Yeah, but none of ’em ever looked at me like_ this_, alright, trust me. It’s a…it’s a grown-up kinda look.”

And she’s not just talking about the way Daryl’s eyes snag on her legs, on her collarbones, on the swell of her hip, although, God, ain’t_ that_ enough to make her mouth run dry on the regular. The way he looks at her, it’s…weighted. _Significant_. And maybe she’s been reading too many Harlequin paperbacks lately, but she’d swear there’s a little bit of longing in there, too.

She’d know all about longing, anyway, because sometimes—all the time—she’ll look at Daryl, at the scruff on his chin or the small grudging smile that bites at his lips when she says something he doesn’t want to think is funny, and she’ll feel like she’s gonna choke on how much she wants him, like she can’t even breathe past it, like she took a hit off of one of Daryl’s Marlboros and now she’s got tobacco smoke blocking up her lungs.

“I mean, _yeah_,” says Amy, and Beth swears she can hear a smirk in her voice. “He_ is_ a grownup, isn’t he? So I guess that checks out.”

Whatever. Daryl might be a lot older than her, but Beth’s an adult, too—a young adult, but still.

_Even if I don’t look it_, she thinks fatalistically as she turns to examine herself in the mirror over her dresser. She tugs on the hem of her tank top and sighs when the collar sags around her total _lack_ of cleavage. Even if she put on the pushup bra Maggie bought for her last Christmas, it still wouldn’t make a difference, ’cause there ain’t nothing worth scooping up.

She doesn’t think that Daryl would care about that kinda thing, though. Thinks that he might—just _might_—be more of a leg man, anyway.

Beth fluffs the ends of her ponytail and twists to take a peek at her backside. At least her shorts are doing her butt a couple of favors, and she’ll take what she can get. “And, y’know, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at _me_, either. Never even heard Daddy or Mr. Grimes mention anythin’ about him goin’ out on dates.” 

“Maybe he never _wanted _to date anyone before.” Amy laughs again, although this time it’s more of a juvenile snicker. “Maybe he’s just, what—_Beth-sexual_?”

Beth flushes, but she can’t stave off the smile that blooms across her face, that lights up in the mirror as she mulls over Amy’s half-joking suggestion that she might be special to Daryl in some way. She’s starting to believe that she might be. The car rides, the aux cord, that afternoon in the forest preserve—it’s all gotta add up to _something_.

But she still says, “Knock it off, Ames,” as she goes to retrieve her cowgirl boots. They give her a slight height boost, but Daryl’ll probably still find an excuse to tease her about being short, like he often does.

And, hey: Daryl Dixon, teasing _her_. That’s right up there with the rides home and the aux cord, as far as Beth’s concerned.

She’s got her bedroom window cracked to let in the fresh summer air, and her scalp tingles when she hears the rumble of an engine coming up the dirt drive. She nearly trips over her own feet in her rush to have a look, heart clenching up like a fist when she spots Daryl’s dusty truck. Usually he just drives her _from_ Rick’s, not _to_, but Daddy and Maggie are both out for the day, and when she texted him asking for a ride, he said he’d be there, that he was on his way to Rick’s for some coffee, anyhow.

She darts away from the window and stops to shove a few bracelets onto her wrist before hooking her backpack over her shoulders. “Gotta go, Ames. Thanks for listenin’ to me vent.”

“Sure,” says Amy, and, yeah, she’s definitely smirking. “Have fun handling Mr. Dixon’s _aux cord_.”

Ugh. “_Bye_, Amy,” Beth says, and hangs up.

She wants to take the stairs two at a time and go racing out the front door, but then Daryl’d ask her what the hell lit a fire under _her_ ass, and she doesn’t think he’d buy it if she said she was_ that _eager to get some of Rick’s fresh-brewed coffee in her system. So she splits the difference, skipping down the stairs and then walking sedately out the front door, and if she’s a little out of breath by the time she gets to Daryl’s truck, anyway, hopefully he just won’t notice.

He probably will, though. Daryl notices everything. He’s a really smart guy, no matter what he says to the contrary.

The passenger side door is unlocked, like it always is, so Beth hauls it open and tosses her backpack inside before bracing one foot on the running board and boosting herself into the cab with a little huff that makes Daryl’s lips twitch, like maybe—

Well, like maybe he thinks she’s_ cute _or something, although he’s probably just laughing at her.

Could be both, though, at least. Beth’s feeling optimistic.

“_Jeez_.” Beth claps the door shut and buckles in, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Can’t you just drive a sedan or somethin’ like everybody else, huh?” Not that she’s got any room to talk, living on a farm in the country, but the trucks belong to Maggie and their dad, anyway. If Beth had a car of her own, she’d go for something closer to the ground.

“Naw,” Daryl drawls, and, yeah, he’s definitely laughing at her. Not with his mouth, no, but his slate-blue eyes are bright. He puts the truck in gear, hauls it around in a U-turn. “Ain’t my fault you’re fuckin’ elf-sized, damn.”

There he goes again, cussing like it’s going outta style. And he’s got the nerve to scold her for_ her _bad language.

Beth straightens her shoulders and gives him a haughty look from under her lashes. “_Rude_. I’m _gremlin-sized_, at least.”

Daryl just rolls his eyes and passes her the aux cord, and Beth tries to suppress a blush when she remembers what Amy said. Their fingers brush as he hands it over, and maybe she’s reading into things, but the speed with which he retracts his hand doesn’t seem to be motivated by his usual aversion to touch. Not if his flushed ears mean anything, anyway.

Beth grins and plugs the aux cord into her phone, bringing up Spotify and clicking over to her feel-good playlist. Her smile grows when the Supremes come up, and she tosses it Daryl’s way, wanting to share it with him.

The flush in his ears spreads to his face when she does that, and the tight feeling in Beth’s chest seems to spread through her whole body, too, like she’s gonna burst right out of her skin.

She doesn’t think it’d bother her much if she did.

She clears her throat. “Thanks for the ride, Daryl.”

He’s not looking at her anymore. “Uh-huh.”

“Still holdin’ out for a ride on that bike, though.”

Daryl scoffs, worries the steering wheel with his big sun-browned hands. “Don’t hold your breath, girl.”

“Dang,” Beth sighs. “I’ll win you over some day, Dixon, just you wait.”

“Would’n’ hold my breath over that one, neither,” he retorts. Beth shifts, and he points a warning finger at her without even looking her way. “Keep y’ feet off th’ goddamn dash, Christ, how many times I gotta tell ya?”

“As many times as it takes, I guess,” Beth says, unrepentant, and Daryl snorts again, sounding a bit like an ornery bull. Beth hums quietly along to Diana Ross and leans her head against the rolled-down window, the music that drifts out of Daryl’s new stereo—the stereo he installed _for her_—thumping in her ribcage like a second heartbeat.


End file.
